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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419579">The World as We Know It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/miidniight/pseuds/miidniight'>miidniight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The World as We Know It [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Brothers, Demons, Exile, Fate &amp; Destiny, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gods, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prophecy, Royalty, Sparring, Video Game Mechanics, War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:33:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/miidniight/pseuds/miidniight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tommy was three, Phil pulled him from the wreckage of his home and gave him sanctuary in his own.</p><p>It's been thirteen years since then, and Tommy has found himself a home and a family among Phil and his other sons - Wilbur and Techno. Tommy's brothers have long since left home and gone to travel the different worlds. When Wilbur comes home one day talking of a prosperous land ruled over by three brothers who are welcoming anyone looking for a new start into their borders, Tommy decides its his turn for a journey</p><p>But like all things, the Dream Team aren't as they appear to be. Things quickly go from bad to worse as Tommy finds himself leading a war by his brother's side.</p><p>Secrets come to light and relationships are broken as Tommy fights to keep afloat in a sea of betrayals by those he considered friends and family.</p><p>The world as he knows it is coming to an end.<br/>---<br/>Or three brothers are destined to end their world and three brothers are destined to save their world.</p><p>Which is which?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Floris | Fundy &amp; Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The World as We Know It [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The World as We Know It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>tags will be updated as more chapters are posted :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One Mr. Thomas (Tommy, Toms, Tommyinnit - he was a man of many, many names) fully roused to consciousness the second his body slammed into the floor, already halfway through a sneeze. For a moment he lay there, dazed, confused, and in moderate amounts of pain in the facial area thanks to the awkward position his nose had been forced into. With a small groan, Tommy pushed himself up to flop backwards and lean against the side of his bed. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and released a yawn that sounded a bit like a dying cow, Tommy sat and gave his brain a few moments to get his gears spinning fast enough that he was able to think thoughts other than, ‘<i>ouch</i>’ and ‘<i>what the fuck</i>’.</p><p>Tommy smacked his lips together and grimaced at the taste in his mouth. Goal number one for the day was set as he stood slowly and blearily looked around for his toothbrush. His room was a bit of the mess at the moment. Armor was strewn across the floor, there were at least three loose socks hiding away under his desk, a sword was haphazardly leaning against his windowsill and - was that a feather on his pillow?</p><p>He leant over and picked it up, twirling it idly between his fingers. Sure enough, it was a feather, jet black and softer than cotton. That explained why he had woken up sneezing, at least.</p><p>Tommy ambled over to his desk, pulling his hands high above his head and emitting one of those strange squeaks only a stretch could ever pull from a human being, and began his search for a toothbrush. The desk, like everything else in the room, was a shitstorm of disorganization. If Wilbur could see it, he’d say something about a hurricane having torn through before beginning to pull everything into some semblance of order. Transcriptions of enchanting runes scribbled in Tommy’s chicken scratch handwriting were printed across papers that had simply been thrown onto the surface without a care in the world. Tommy’s brows furrowed as he lifted and shifted and scattered papers further across the top in his quest for oral hygiene only to turn up fruitless. It took several frustrated seconds of searching until Tommy finally found his goal with a small smug, “Aha!”</p><p>It was buried under three sheets of reminders from his father to clean his room that had been left pinned to Tommy’s door.</p><p>Another yawn flitting from his lips, Tommy carefully navigated his way across the minefield of weapons and armor that was his bedroom floor before turning the doorknob and making his way through the rest of the house.</p><p>The hallway was a lot brighter than his room (where the windows had curtains thick enough that Tommy could sleep the entire day away if he so truly desired), and Tommy groaned as the light streaming through the hall’s singular window hit his eyes. He blinked furiously for a few moments before squinting as he shuffled to the bathroom. Pictures from his childhood and that of his brothers decorated the walls. Brightly colored snapshots that Tommy could name in order by heart blurred in his peripheral vision.</p><p>The first was of a young Technoblade, hair still short enough that it barely skimmed his shoulders, expression twisted into disgust as he poked at mushroom soup with a spoon held tightly in his fist. From the way everything in the picture seemed slightly shaky, Tommy knew that his dad had to have been laughing at the horrified face his brother was making. At Techno’s elbow was a small blob of brown curls that just barely reached level with the table. Wilbur, practically glued to Techno’s side as Tommy was told he had been for the first few years.</p><p>The second was of Wilbur grinning a gap toothed grin, holding his first guitar in his hands like it was something holy. He and Techno had just turned eleven, not too long after Tommy had first joined their little family. The twins were sitting criss-cross applesauce in the middle of the living room, practically unchanged from how it currently looked. The ugly mustard yellow rug was still splayed across the floor in front of their lovingly worn couch - only without the stain in the corner from when Tommy had accidentally spilled juice on it when he was five. Techno was holding a glowing sword in his hands, the first of many he would receive over the years if Tommy’s memory served him correctly. Tommy was no more than a vague blonde streak in the background, running through the picture at exactly the moment Phil snapped the shot.</p><p>The third (of the ones Tommy bothered to pay attention to, anyway) and Tommy’s favorite was of him and Phil. It was one of the few pictures of Phil in the house, as he was usually the one behind the camera. He lay sprawled out on his bed, wings wide open and hanging halfway off either side, and one small Tommy resting on his chest, gripping Phil’s clothing with tiny, chubby fingers. With one arm protectively wrapped around Tommy’s back, both Phil and Tommy had slumbered on, completely oblivious to Wilbur immortalizing the moment.</p><p>Tommy finally walked into the bathroom, flicking the lights on with a halfway limp finger before he bent slightly to turn on the faucet. He and his brothers had all been blessed with what Phil called “an excess of height” (though they simply told him he was short). While this was fantastic for things like reaching top shelves and throwing it in your father’s face, it made seemingly mundane tasks like turning on the water annoying. The tube of toothpaste simply and aptly labelled ‘Mint’ in Phil’s neat, slightly swoopy handwriting lay on its side on the edge of the sink.</p><p>Phil liked to make his own toothpaste and soaps. Tommy hadn’t questioned it for the first thirteen years since the man had taken him in, he wasn’t about to start now.</p><p>He squirted more than was probably necessary onto his toothbrush before shoving it into his mouth without much fanfare. It stung and made his eyes water, but woke him up faster than coffee or sugar. Tommy fought against a cough building in his chest as he scrubbed at his teeth, blinking and carefully avoiding his stare in the mirror. There was something unsettling about seeing your own eyes move back and forth to Tommy. Sometimes, especially when it was dark, he worried over the irrational fear that one day he would find someone else looking back at him.</p><p><i>Too early to be thinking about this shit</i>, Tommy thought, even though he was almost positive it was well after noon.</p><p>After rinsing off his toothbrush and gargling (twice - he enjoyed the sensation) some water, Tommy headed back to his room briefly to place it back onto his desk. It would probably get lost among the mess and he would once again have to dig through his papers tomorrow morning. Tommy scratched at a spot on his neck where a bug had bitten him the day before as he wandered towards the kitchen. Faint noises of running water and Phil humming some wordless song floated in his direction, alerting Tommy that his father was not, in fact, gone like he had assumed.</p><p>It was a bit strange, as Tommy was never allowed to sleep this late when his father was there to wake him up, but he wasn’t about to complain.</p><p>Phil came into view finally, turned away from Tommy. As usual, he was draped in robes of green, pitch black wings poking through the slits cut carefully into his clothes and folded tightly against his back. The hat that usually adorned his head was absent, most likely hanging from its hook by the door, and showcased Tommy’s father’s pale blonde locks to the world. The water Tommy had heard was from Phil washing whatever dishes he had used for lunch. In a moment of absolute idiocy, Tommy asked the seasoned warrior who was unaware of his presence, “Ooh, did you make enough for me?”</p><p>Phil jumped almost immediately, tugging a dirty knife from where it was resting in the sink and pulling his arm back in preparation to throw it as he whirled upon Tommy. With a yelp, the boy ducked to the floor instantly, instincts sending him down before Phil had even turned completely.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Tommy complained, noting the moment Phil realized it was just him. “Are we pulling weapons on our sons now?”</p><p>“Prime above, Tommy. I thought someone had broken into the house!” Phil shook his head and tossed the knife back into the sink with a small sploosh. After a moment, his dad looked him up and down, taking in (what must have been) the bedhead Tommy wore like a crown and the rumpled appearance of his clothes.</p><p>And the fact that they were literally just his pajamas.</p><p>“Have you been asleep this entire time?” Phil questioned, raising an eyebrow in a way that Tommy could tell he already knew the answer.</p><p>Awkwardly and with a bit of hesitation, Tommy replied, “Uh, yeah. I just woke up like fifteen minutes ago, why?”</p><p>“I thought you had headed over to Tubbo’s hours ago.”</p><p>If Tommy wasn’t sleeping until dinner rolled around or in the field behind their house training, he was usually at Tubbo’s. He lived in the nearest village and had been Tommy’s best friend since either boys could remember. At this point, he was practically family, something that even Phil, someone who treated the word 'family' with more reverence than Prime herself sometimes, had acknowledged. Tubbo had spent more nights sleeping at Tommy’s house than he could count and vice versa. Tubbo’s mom was a lovely lady that always baked cookies for them, and Tommy was very appreciative of anyone that gave him free food.</p><p>“Oh, no,” Tommy told his somewhat peeved father with a semi-nervous laugh, “No, I’ve just been… in bed. Speaking of which, I found a feather of yours in my room. Made me sneeze so hard, I fell off the bed. Not sure how you didn’t hear me, to be honest.”</p><p>“Oh, I went out back for a bit,” his father replied dismissively, already turning back to the half soapy dishes awaiting him. Tommy waited a beat for him to elaborate, but he said no more, going back to humming whatever song was flowing through his mind under his breath.</p><p>With a roll of his eyes, Tommy repeated his earlier question. “Is there enough for me of whatever you ate?”</p><p>“No, mate. I thought you were at Tubbo’s so I thought his mom was feeding you.”</p><p>Tommy huffed in offense. This meant that it was probably another day of bread, cheese, and the carrots that were growing in the backyard. “Do we at least have any berries?”</p><p>“Uh…,” Phil turned to him and squinted, not quite looking at Tommy while he thought back to whether or not there were any left from when he had gone harvesting a little while ago. “There should be some dried ones in a chest downstairs, I think.”</p><p>Tommy wrinkled his nose in disgust. Dried sweet berries were awful. You take something fantastic, exploding with flavor and juices only to throw them into the sun and have it all sucked away until the only thing left behind was a sad, wrinkled husk of chewy disappointment. “I’ll pass, I think.”</p><p>“Get dressed, Toms.” Phil once again returned to his task, a lightness to his tone telling Tommy that his annoyance from before was completely forgotten. “You look like you’re ready to go back to bed instead of just getting out of it.”</p><p>“If I’m being completely honest, I'm considering it,” Tommy muttered as he slumped his shoulders and shuffled back towards his room.</p><p>Five minutes and a change of clothes later, Tommy was holding his hand above his head to block the sun from blinding him as he walked through the garden behind their house. It wasn’t particularly large (though the amount of space dedicated to just potatoes was rather ridiculous if Tommy had to say so himself - it wasn’t even like Techno lived with them anymore), but it did mean less trips to the market.</p><p>The villagers, with the exceptions of Tubbo and his mother, avoided Tommy and his family like the plague. They talked only when absolutely necessary, which made things like trading for food awkward as all hell. Tommy would rather fight off a horde of mobs than sit there and make tense eye contact with the guy selling him beetroot, scowling all the while.</p><p>As he crouched down to tug one carrot from its place in the dirt, Tommy winced at the twinge in his back. He supposed there was a reason that Phil always insisted he watch his posture, but as a rebellious teenager, Tommy did his best not to listen to the advice his father sent his way.</p><p>Tommy stayed there for a moment, savoring the way time seemed slightly off-kilter as the seconds dragged on like minutes. The sun kissed his skin in butterfly light touches of warmth, the heat that spiralled through the air tempered by the cool breeze blowing by. With a regretful sigh and an impatient growl from his stomach, Tommy stood, grubby carrot in hand. He began to head back, planning on washing it off in the sink rather than in the water that flowed from a spout nearby. </p><p>Before he could take more than a step, however, he heard a call of, “Uncle Tommy!”</p><p>Surprised, Tommy turned his head, catching no more than a blur before there was a small body leaping at his legs and sweeping them out from underneath him. He landed on his butt with an ‘oomph’ as the figure attached to his bottom half looked up. Tommy caught sight of bright orange eyes, pupils little more than a slit before the face buried itself into his chest, tiny arms wrapped tight enough around his midsection to hurt.</p><p>“Fun-Funds, you’re squeezing a little tight there buddy, yeah?” Tommy rubbed one hand down his young nephew’s copper hair and onto his back as the mischievous six-year old looked up with a grin. “You’ve gotten so strong, Big Man.”</p><p>Fundy nodded quickly, smile growing in size. “That’s what Dad says too! And that one day I’ll be stronger than even him!”</p><p>Tommy didn’t bother to fight back the chuckle that built in his throat, looking up to locate where, exactly, his brother was. Not too far off from where the pair were laying on the ground was a tall man with brown hair covered by a beanie tying a horse to a post near the stables. Something in Tommy’s chest became warm and full, as if a missing piece had finally clicked into its rightful place.</p><p>Wilbur was home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope everyone has a good day!! make sure to drink some water</p></blockquote></div></div>
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